


Call Me Maybe

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drunk Dialing, M/M, Non-Explicit Masturbation, Third Year Akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 14:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13125720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Akaashi Keiji (the fool who braves sub-freezing Miyagi temperatures in only sweats for an emergency toothbrush run) doesn't know what there is to gain by giving his number to the kind, hot stranger he meets at the store, but he does it anyway.





	Call Me Maybe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deducingontheroof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deducingontheroof/gifts).



> Charlie, when I saw IwaAka on your requests, I knew this had to be it. It's too rare a ship to find people who are into it to pass up the chance to snag a few more.

Pulling his club jacket a little closer around him, Akaashi steps out into the cold Miyagi air and heads for the nearest street. He knows it’s December and there is a light dusting of snow still lingering on the trees, but somehow his brain hadn’t computed just how biting the wind up north really is until a gust of it raced right through the fabric of his track suit.

Akaashi rubs his hands up and down his arms as he jogs off into unfamiliar territory. Google Maps had noted the presence of a convenience store a few blocks away from the school where his team is staying for the night — a distance easily traversed by an athlete. However, this particular athlete’s fingers feel like they’re going to fall off, so with that thought, he picks up the pace.

He silently vows to find out which of his teammates had stolen his toothbrush, which had started this ridiculous trek in the first place, and make  _ him _ run three blocks in the bitter cold.

When Akaashi spies the storefront, he all but sprints to the door to dart inside. The warm air inside the shop stings his entire skin like needles, but the unpleasant sensation gradually recedes as the cold oozes out of him.

“Dude, are you nuts? It’s minus five out!” comes a sharp voice from behind him.

Wheeling around, Akaashi searches for its owner, only for his eyes to widen at the sight of a guy around his own age (and dressed far more appropriately for the weather) giving him an incredulous look that can’t quite hide a  _ very _ pleasant face.

Unable to deny the charge, Akaashi shrugs even as he clings to his torso for the feeble amount of warmth his body can still produce. “Yeah, probably.” He tries to offer up a wry smile, but it turns into a shudder when the door to the shop opens to admit a new customer and sends a fresh wave of misery Akaashi’s way.

The concerned stranger shakes his head before he throws an arm around Akaashi’s shoulder and shepherds him toward the back of the shop where there are tables near the hot food section. “Get away from the door before you get pneumonia,” he scolds, and Akaashi can’t help but agree.

When Akaashi is parked on the chair nearest to the hot food case, the other guy sits across from him and crosses his arms on top of the table. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Akaashi shakes his head and chortles. “Is it that obvious?” He sighs heavily, glad to no longer see his breath freezing in the air, and explains, “I’m here with my volleyball team. We’re playing some practice matches at Karasuno and staying there for the night before heading back to Tokyo. But someone who will be running laps until he drops stole my toothbrush. Hence the trek into the frigid Northern yonder.”

He doesn’t expect his new companion to laugh, but Akaashi can’t say he doesn’t enjoy the way his nose crinkles and his teeth show. “Oh yeah, you’re a city boy all right.” He casts a meaningful glance at Akaashi’s tracksuit. “But even us polar folk know better than to run around in this weather dressed like that.”

“Point taken.” Akaashi turns to eye the food case, his gaze promptly falling on the fresh pile of meat buns inside of it. “God those look so good right now.”

“They are.” The guy nods at the case. “This place is pretty popular with the after school crowd. Before I graduated last year, my kouhai would fight to be the first through the door when Oikawa and I offered to spring for a round.”

“That settles that, then. If you’ll excuse me.” Akaashi gets out of his chair and heads to the counter to order a dozen of the pork buns, along with a couple of the cheese onigiri next to the buns. He pays and stuffs one of the buns in his mouth (which are every bit as good as advertised) and heads back to the table. He’s met with a slack-jawed stare. Swallowing the large bite, he asks, “What?”

“You’re gonna eat all that? You look like you’re sixty kilos soaking wet.”

“Seventy, actually,” Akaashi corrects, casting a glance challenging his attractive tablemate to negate it. “I have a good metabolism, and I’m probably going to miss dinner,” he adds in a low voice before taking another bite of his  _ incredibly _ delicious meat bun.

With a harrumph, Akaashi pushes the bag across the table. “Feel free. These really are as good as you said.”

Akaashi feels the guy’s lingering gaze as he reaches into the bag and takes one for himself, slowly nibbling on it while he watches Akaashi. When Akaashi polishes off three of the buns, he pops his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his palm. “By the way, I’m Keiji.”

His companion coughs around his meat bun at Akaashi’s informal introduction and not the standard surname, but Akaashi can’t dispel the small bubble of thrill in his belly at the concept of flirting with a complete stranger. He has no idea if he’s this guy’s ‘type’ or not, but from the way he’s watching Akaashi’s tongue dart out and dash away a crumb of bread, he thinks he might be doing all right in that arena.

“Iwaizumi,” he finally answers, his eyes still riveted on Akaashi’s mouth. “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

Glad the ice is finally broken clean through between them, Akaashi asks, “So, when you played, what was your position?”

At the mention of volleyball, Iwaizumi snaps out of his reverie and answers all of Akaashi’s questions before posing a few of his own. Neither of them realize how long they actually sit there until the shopkeeper approaches the table and bows. “Pardon the intrusion, but we close in fifteen minutes.”

“What?” Iwaizumi pulls out his phone and gawks at the time. “Holy crap, it’s almost ten.”

Akaashi’s own eyes widen at the time. When he had set out from the school, it had barely been past six. “Oh, that’s going to get me in trouble. Lights out is at ten, and I’m pretty sure the captain gets his ass chewed for breaking curfew.”

“Yeah, probably.” Iwaizumi gets up and disposes of the wreckage of the bag of meat buns, most of which Akaashi had consumed as promised. “Hey, let me give you a ride. It’ll be cold because I’m on my bike, but it’ll be faster.”

Offering a smile, Akaashi says, “That would be great.”

As they leave, Iwaizumi offers his apologies to the shopkeeper for monopolizing a table for over three hours before they head back out into the biting cold. The temperature at least five degrees colder than earlier, Akaashi can’t help but start shivering the moment he steps outside.

He starts when he feels the warmth of a jacket being draped around his shoulders. Akaashi turns to refuse Iwaizumi’s offering, only to be met with a curt shake of the head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” He chuckles. “I live here, remember?”

Akaashi’s arguments stall as he takes in the way Iwaizumi’s nenley clings to his torso. Instead, he bobs his head and follow’s Iwaizumi’s lead, eyes straying down to the back of his jeans more than once.

They stop in front of a motorcycle with gleaming teal paint and highly polished tailpipes, and Akaashi swallowed hard. “I’ve never ridden on one of these before.”

Iwaizumi picks up the helmet dangling from the handlebars before freeing the one strapped to the back of the seat, handing that one to Akaashi. “Piece of cake. Just hold on to me, and lean into the turns when I do. You’ll know what to do, trust me.”

_ I do _ , Akaashi notes before strapping on the helmet and zipping the borrowed coat. “Do you know where Karasuno High School is?”

“’Course I do.” Iwaizumi mounts the bike and turns the key. He pumps the kick start a few times before the engine roars to life. “One of my old kouhai goes there. Good kid. Kind of weird, but talented as hell.”

“Kageyama,” Akaashi says with a nod. “He was insanely good at nationals last year.”

“Yeah, he was. I saw a few of his matches on tv.” Iwaizumi braces the bike with both legs as Akaashi gingerly climbs onto the seat behind him, his feet finding the foot pegs on their own. “Scoot a little closer. It’s steadier that way.”

Akaashi complies until his entire front is plastered to Iwaizumi’s well-muscled back. He slowly reaches around until his fingers lock together just above the waistband of Iwaizumi’s jeans.

Over his shoulder, Iwaizumi says, “When we take off, you’re gonna wanna hold on tighter than that.”

His hands instinctively complying with the command, Akaashi doesn’t have long to ask if his grip is sufficient before the motorcycle lurches forward. His fingers dig into Iwaizumi’s flesh, but every cell in his brain demands he hold on for dear life.

Three blocks flies by in only a few minutes, and before he realizes it, Akaashi is at the front gates of Karasuno. His exposed face is still burning with cold, but the air whooshing past them on the ride had been largely deflected by Iwaizumi’s broad frame.

“That was actually really cool,” Akaashi says as he slides off onto wobbling legs. “My ass is numb.”

Iwaizumi bursts into laughter. “You get used to that. I probably should’ve warned you.” He kills the engine and puts down the kickstand before disembarking himself, peeling off his helmet. He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on the balls of his feet. “So, I guess that’s it then.”

“Guess so,” Akaashi echoes. It takes a moment before he realizes he’s holding onto something important. He sheds Iwaizumi’s jacket, missing its warmth the moment it parts from his body. “I should probably let you get going before  _ you _ freeze.”

“Nah, I’m all right,” Iwaizumi lies as he shivers. “Okay, yeah. It’s cold as balls out here.”

Akaashi smiles. “So that’s what you northerners call it.”

“Pretty much.” Iwaizumi shrugs his coat back on, and Akaashi already misses the little patch of tanned skin at the base of Iwaizumi’s throat where his buttons hang undone.

He gulps. “Sorry to be so annoying.”

“Don’t sweat it. Glad I could help.” He remounts his bike and puts his helmet back on. “Thanks for the meat buns. And the company.”

“Yeah.” Akaashi bites back the swell of regret in the back of his throat before he jogs over to Iwaizumi’s bike and reaches into the coat pocket once again to grab the phone he had noticed before. He ignores Iwaizumi’s squawk of surprise as he keys in his name and phone number before returning the phone to its owner. “If you’re ever down my way, hit me up.”

Akaashi pecks a kiss on Iwaizumi’s cheek before he scurries toward the building where he can both thaw out and hide from the brash thing he’d just done.

Inside, he almost bowls over Karasuno’s petite manager in his rush to make it back before curfew. “That’s my fault, Yachi-san,” Akaashi blurts as he steadies her on her feet. “I don’t suppose you know if anyone’s looking for me.”

Yachi bites her bottom lip. “Kageyama-kun wanted to practice with you, but I don’t think so?”

Akaashi bows at his savior who narrowly missed not locking him out of the building. “I’ll, um, leave you to it. Have a good night, Yachi-san.”

“You too, Akaashi-san,” she hiccups as Akaashi speeds down the hallway to his team’s assigned room.

When he opens the door to his team’s assigned room, several sets of eyes fall onto him as he walks nonchalantly over to his bedroll. He harrumphs when he spies his own toothbrush sitting on top of his bag. “There you are.”

Without another word, he picks it up, along with the rest of his evening toiletries, and heads to the showers without a glance behind him.

_ Someone’s going to sweat that one out, _ he thinks, but he stops in his tracks to look out the school’s doors at the empty street where he had been dropped off. He wonders if Iwaizumi will ever call him, but judging from the fluttering in his belly, he can’t wait to find out.

 

**_Three Weeks Later_ **

Akaashi yawns and rubs his eyes to stay awake during the countdown to the new year. He has spent nearly his entire break drowning in homework just to keep up with his classmates who had the good sense to retire from their clubs in their third year. He had finished it all this morning so he could go to the shrine with his teammates, but that had been derailed when he slept through his alarm and didn’t wake up until well past the designated meet-up time. Onaga had sent him a text he didn’t hear, telling him they were going to go on ahead.

So he’s spending his New Year’s in his bedroom, tired and alone. His parents are downstairs looking for the bottom of a bottle of sake, and Akaashi has declined their invitation to join them. Instead, he does what every red-blooded teenage boy on this planet does with his down time: sticks his hand down his pants and gets himself off.

Eyes squeezed closed, Akaashi’s imagination flicks from one mental image to the next, drawing from the fodder Akaashi usually resorts to. However, he keeps thinking back to a strong set of shoulders, a hard set of abs, and a dorky smile. Of course, they all belong to Iwaizumi Hajime. Most of his fantasies have since that fated run-in in Sendai.

Akaashi bites his lower lip to muffle his groans of pleasure as he works himself to satisfaction, but when his phone wails to life in the middle of a series of frenzied strokes as he tries to finish the job. With an irritated sigh, he pulls his hands out of his pajama pants, wipes them off on the legs, and rolls over to pick his phone up from the side table.

The number is unfamiliar and he almost declines the call, but when he notices that the area code isn’t one from Tokyo, he answers the phone. “Hello?”

“KEI-CHAN!” cries a completely unfamiliar voice, and Akaashi winces at the infantile nickname. “You answered.”

Breath still quickened by his previous activities, Akaashi asks, “Who is this?”

“This is Cupid, at your service. You see, I —”

Akaashi hears raised voices on the other side of the line, and he keens in to listen to them until a familiar voice fills his ears. “Hey, uh, sorry about that. He means well, but he’s drunk and listens to reason even less than normal.”

Giving his fist a little pump of victor, Akaashi asks, “And how are you, Iwaizumi-san?”

“Embarrassed, mostly. Also a little drunk, but not as drunk as Oikawa.” 

There is loud shuffling, and Oikawa’s voice once again greets Akaashi. “Kei-chan, Iwa-chan likes you and wants to call you but he’s a big baby and won’t.”

“Goddamn it, Oikawa, I’m gonna kill you,” Akaashi hears Iwaizumi shout before he’s pretty sure the phone hits the floor. It’s several amusing minutes later, filled with epithets laced with the occasional whine of mortification, before Iwaizumi comes back on the line. “Again. Sorry. He’s a jackass and I hate him, even if he is my best friend.”

“I know the type,” Akaashi agrees with a chuckle, remembering the toothbrush heist that had started this all in the first place. “Do you want to keep talking, or are you not really into this?”

“What, no!” Iwaizumi swears before he growls in frustration. “I mean, yeah. Oikawa’s right that I wanted to call you and I’m a chicken shit and won’t. But I’m okay with staying on the line if you are.”

Pulling up the waistband of his pajamas to eye his rapidly flagging erection, Akaashi harrumphs. “Yep, it looks like I am.”

He eases back onto his pillow and lets the conversation flow. Much like their last meeting, they find enough to fill entire hours until well past one, when Akaashi’s mother softly knocks on his door and calls through it, “Happy New Years, Keiji. Don’t stay up too late.”

Akaashi puts his phone over his heart and closes his eyes. “It really is.”

With that, he picks his phone back up and is once again treated to the pleasant rumble of Iwaizumi’s voice, and he can’t help but think he might just owe some guy named Oikawa a thank you in the near future.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story. Thank you for reading!


End file.
